


Shadows in Edoras

by Savageseraph



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anger, Bathing/Washing, Blades, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Fights, Grief/Mourning, Hair-pulling, Horses, Injury, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual, Object Insertion, Rough Sex, Roughness, Seduction, Sexual Fantasy, Soldiers, Suicidal Thoughts, Swords, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-07
Updated: 2003-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageseraph/pseuds/Savageseraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could have happened after Eomer gave Aragorn horses to aid in the search for the kidnapped hobbits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows in Edoras

**Author's Note:**

> A WIP that I hoped to have more complete for Gondor/Rohan love month. Thanks to [](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://azewewish.livejournal.com/)**azewewish** for a wonderful beta. Any errors left are mine.

That Eomer handed his stallion's reins to the stable boy without complaint when his eodred returned to the Golden Hall was a sign of his weariness. Normally, he did not trust his mount's care to another, but the ache of battle weighed on his flesh, and the certain knowledge of battles yet to come in his uncle's house was a heavier burden still.

The eodred began to disperse, each seeking the comfort of his bed or of a lover's arms--all except for young Norfelm, who sat slumped in his saddle.

"Come on, lad," Eomer said, as he clapped the boy on the back. "Let's to the hall." But instead of heeding his lord's command, the boy listed to the side. Eomer caught him as he fell.

A burst of warmth soaked Eomer's side. He held up a hand. Blood. The bandages and the boy's clothes were soaked through with it. So much blood. A wonder he'd even managed to stay in the saddle.

"We need a healer!" Eomer shouted and, in the moment of stunned hesitation that followed his words, added, "Now!"

Several people scurried from the courtyard.

"Lord Eomer?" The voice was barely more than a whisper, and Eomer had to lean close to hear it.

"I am here, Norfelm." The boy's eyes rolled blindly, and Eomer touched his cheek, giving the boy tangible evidence of his presence.

"Are we home, my lord?"

Eomer nodded, then swallowed around the tightness in his throat before speaking. "Yes."

The boy shuddered, coughed up blood. It sprayed Eomer's cheek, ran down his neck.

"Home," the boy gasped, smiling redly.

"Safely home."

The boy's smile didn't falter. He took it with him into death. Eomer bowed his head, touched his forehead to Norfelm's.

"I'm sorry, lad," he whispered as he closed the sightless eyes. "I'm so sorry."

The small crowd of people shuffled restlessly when Eomer stood. "Eothain?" He called his second, scanning the crowd. He wanted some explanation for how the boy's wound was neglected. Several people stepped back at the anger in his eyes.

One fellow raised his hand, pointed toward the hall. "He is within, my lord."

Eomer nodded and brushed by the man as he went in search of his second.

###

When there was no answer to his knock, Eomer tried Eothain's door. It opened into a darkened room, lit only by the feeble glow of two candles. Eothain stood at the window, looking out over the empty plains. He didn't acknowledge Eomer's presence, even after Eomer crossed the room and stood at his side.

"Norfelm is dead." Eomer tried not to make it sound like an accusation. He didn't believe his lieutenant would be careless with another's life. But these were dark times.

Eothain didn't answer, wouldn't look at him.

"Eothain...?" Eomer's fingers itched to grab the man and shake him.

Finally, Eothain spoke. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Give his horse to that stranger. The beggar claiming to be the lost king of Gondor." Eothain shook his head. "It wasn't right." His voice broke word on the last word, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Garulf deserved better than that."

Surely, this couldn't be about the horses? "Our fallen comrades were good men," he said, reminding Eothain that the eodred lost more than one of its own. "But Aragorn had need of help we could render. Garulf would have understood that."

Eothain's eyes narrowed. "Aragorn? Your pardon, I was not aware the two of you had become so...familiar with one another."

Ignoring the implication of Eothain's words, Eomer touched his second's shoulder. "I know what Garulf meant to you...."

Eothain shrugged off the hand, anger darkening his eyes as he turned to face Eomer. "You don't know anything."

"Eothain...."

"I could have fought closer to him. Should have. He had passing talent with a sword, but he was never truly skilled. I knew that. I should have gone to him when the Uruks unhorsed him." Eothain moved closer until their hips touched. "But instead, I stayed at your side. Even though you sent me from your bed, I still watched your back."

Eothain reached out, his fingers caressing Eomer's cheek. Eomer tensed, refused to lean into the touch that kindled an old fire he thought had long since burned to ash. "Don't do this."

"I never stopped wanting you," Eothain said as his thumb stroked the line of Eomer's jaw. "Never."

"No." Eomer stepped back. "This is wrong."

"Wrong?" Eothain asked as his hands slid down Eomer's chest. "How is it wrong?"

"It's not really me you want."

"What about what you want?" Eothain's mouth teased along his neck. "You haven't taken another lover. Your bed has been empty for a long time, hasn't it?"

Eomer couldn't deny it, and the lure of easy release found at another's hand instead of his own was tempting. But that was all Eothain was offering, all he had ever offered, and it was not enough. "There won't be another time between us."

Eothain pulled back slightly. "So you'd spread your legs for a stranger but not for me?"

"What?"

"I saw you with Aragorn." Eothain lingered over the name. "You sent the eodred far enough away that we couldn't hear the words that passed between you, but I saw you. Saw the way you looked at him."

"Your grief must have clouded your vision." Eomer turned to leave, but Eothain caught him, spun him around.

"When he drew his sword on you, you didn't answer his challenge. You looked ready to drop to your knees. You let him master you. You wanted him to take you."

Before Eomer could respond, Eothain's mouth was on his, tongue parting lips and pushing past teeth.

Eomer brought his arms up between them, tried pushing the other man away, but Eothain tightened his grip. As they grappled, Eomer bumped into a table and lost his balance as it toppled from the impact. His head connected with part of it as he fell, and his vision blurred. Then, all was shadow.

###

The room was still dark when Eomer woke, and Eothain was already inside him, sheathed deeply in his body. He ached, but not with the bright pain of sudden, dry entry. Eothain had time enough to prepare him.

Eomer tensed to throw the other man off, but his hands had been bound behind his back, stealing the chance for him to find the slightest leverage.

Eothain spoke softly into Eomer's ear. "You licked your lips when you were talking to him. Like you were wondering how he would taste. Like you were anticipating the weight of his cock against your tongue."

"Get off me!" Eomer struggled, twisting beneath Eothain, whose hold on him never faltered.

"When you swallowed, did you imagine how it would be to do it around him?"

"No!"

"I think you did. I think that if he asked, you would have lain down in the grass with him and let him ride you hard."

Eomer groaned as Eothain punctuated each of his last three words with a single deep thrust.

"You would have liked it, wouldn't you?" Eothain asked as his hands stroked up and down Eomer's back and sides. "You would have shown him your paces, wouldn't you, my beauty?"

Eomer was familiar with the tone of Eothain's voice, the texture of his hands; they had coaxed him to pleasure often enough that it was impossible not to respond to them now. "Damn you." Eomer tried to pull free, but Eothain gripped his hips more firmly. Began driving in quicker, deeper.

"Fight me." Eothain demanded as he grabbed a fistful of Eomer's hair and used it to pull his head back. "It will make reining you in sweeter."

"Bastard...." Eomer gasped, tensed as Eothain's angle shifted and each thrust edged them both closer to release. Eomer shook his head; he didn't want to find pleasure in this. Some servant of light must have heard him, because at that moment Eothan shouted as he thrust deeply one last time and spilled into Eomer.

Eothain freed his hands even as he pulled free of Eomer's body. Before the other man could do more than settle back against one of the walls, Eomer turned on him, grabbing hold of Eothain's vest and pulling the other man close.

"If we didn't need every man who could wield a weapon to defend this place, I would kill you now."

Eothain's eyes were unfocused, glassy and dark. They were a stranger's eyes.

"Never touch me again," Eomer said, just before he drove his fist into the other man's jaw. Eothain's eyes rolled back in their sockets as he slumped to the floor. Hitting him felt good, and even as Eomer shook the shock of the impact from his fingers, he considered hitting the man again. And again. And....

Eomer backed away, afraid that if he struck Eothain again, he might not be able to stop.

###

Though Eomer passed many people in the halls, none stopped to speak with him. It was enough for him to consider that fortune might indeed favor him in something this day. Until a shadow detached itself from the shadows near his door.

"Well, it's Eomer returned from the borders. You've been missed in Edoras, Lord of the Mark." Wormtongue's smile, cold and bitter as gall, made it clear he was not one of those who lamented Eomer's absence. "Your fair sister, I know, has been most grieved."

Eomer's hand closed around the hilt of his sword. From the first time the twisted fellow darkened his uncle's court, Eomer knew it would come to this. He would kill him, though it would surely earn him his uncle's wrath.

"I've done my best to offer her some...comfort." Wormtongue didn't flinch as Eomer's blade found his throat, opened a shallow wound. "If your aim were this true against the orcs that plague this land, perhaps the people would sleep more soundly."

"It is a wicked poison that taints their dreams. Not something that comes from clean and honest battle."

"Really? An interesting thought. But I would say the incompetence of the field commanders is a heavier burden for them to bear." Wormtongue pushed the blade away. "How many men did you lose on this last campaign?"

As Eomer pushed past the other man, Wormtongue laughed, a cracked, wheezing sound. "Yes, this is not the best time to talk for you. Maybe we will have a chance later. When you have rested." Eomer stepped into the room. "And no longer reek of rutting."

Eomer slammed the door. Bolted it. He let his blade fall as he leaned against the door, shaking with rage and exhaustion. He slid to the floor, touched the sword, wondered how it would feel as it passed through skin and muscle and bowels. When he found that he'd lifted it, had the point pressing against his own belly, he threw it from him with a broken cry.

The sickness that had seized his uncle was seeping into all Rohan. He'd seen it in his sister's eyes. Saw it in Eothain's this evening. He stood, looked into his own mirror. It was in his eyes now. Eomer poured a stream of fresh water from an ewer to a deep basin and splashed it on his face, bent his head and poured more over his neck and head.

_I won't give in to this._ Eomer peeled off his blood-stiffened clothes and washed the worst of the dirt and gore from his chest. His hands trembled as he washed Eothain's seed from his buttocks and thighs. _I won't give in._ Eowyn had helped him weather dark spells before, but even her power to strengthen him was failing. He needed...something....

He met his own eyes in the mirror as he heard Eothain's accusation. "...You were anticipating the weight of his cock on your tongue." He shuddered, unable to dismiss the image from his mind. His weary body stirred.

Letting his head fall back, Eomer's lips parted as his wet hands caressed the line of his jaw, traced graceful curves down his neck, across his collarbone. Eomer dipped his fingers in the water to moisten them, then touched his nipples. If only the water was warmer and better able to mimic the certain heat of Aragorn's mouth.

One hand slid lower. Eomer stroked himself as he imagined Aragorn dropping to his knees and using his teeth to untie Eomer's breeches. The thought of Aragorn's face pressed against his crotch, of Aragorn's lips parting to draw him inside the ranger's mouth, made Eomer moan. Tumbling into bed, Eomer opened the drawer to the bedside table and removed a small jar of unguent that the Rohirrim used to gloss the manes of their mounts. He coated his hand with it before closing it around his cock.

His hips rose as he imagined it was Aragorn's mouth and not his own fist he was driving into. The fingers wandering down his chest, teasing at his nipples were Aragon's fingers. His body shuddered. More.

He dipped his fingers into the salve, then slid them between his buttocks, grazing the ring of muscle still tender from Eothain's invasion before pressing inside. His other hand trembled on his cock as he imagined Aragorn preparing him with clever fingers and a wicked tongue. The flash of heat that went through him at the thought made him wonder if he could bear having Aragorn touch him as he desired.

He lunged for one of the candles that burned on his bedside table, shaking out the flame as melted wax spattered across the floor. He brought it against his body, clenching his jaw against the ache as it opened him and then gasping as it filled him. As Aragorn filled him. When it brushed the small gland inside him, he bit his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

Rolling on his back, he stroked his cock in earnest, and the motion of hips caused the candle to rub deliciously inside him. His head thrashed on his pillows as he imagined Aragorn's weight over him, arms braced on either side of his head. He could smell Aragorn.

"My heart desires to come with you." Eomer's body moved with greater abandon, as he remembered the sound of Aragorn's voice, the way the man's breath caressed his cheek as he leaned close to whisper the words to Eomer on the plains that morning.

"To come with you," Eomer moaned as his body tightened. "Come with you." Eomer's body stiffened as his orgasm slammed through him, left him breathless and shuddering on his crumpled sheets.


End file.
